Rise: Rise & Fall Duet Book 1 (Shaken 3) Read online

  “If I have the keys, I’ll be the one in trouble. Not you.” She held out her upturned palm.

  I stared at it. Why hadn’t I already dropped the keys into her hand? I couldn’t take risks like this. Especially not for someone I didn’t believe in.

  I’m not a good guy.

  He’d admitted what I already knew. I hoped he hadn’t noticed the out-of-control pulse in my neck when he’d gotten close. His scent was expensive and all man. Just like he was.

  I hated I’d even noticed.

  “No.” The ring of keys burned in my pocket. This is the dumbest thing you have ever done.

  Once I made my mind up about something, there was no going back.

  “Damn it.” Beau uttered the curse under her breath. She was well aware of my stubborn streak.

  “What are we doing?”

  I jumped when Eric spoke from right beside me. “You snuck up on me.”

  He grinned.

  “Keep looking for the keys.” Beau winked at him.

  “How long before you can get here?” Teague barked. I didn’t know him well, but that scary tone sounded more like his brother than him.

  The car door slammed. Beau, Eric, and I straightened.

  “Time’s up. You’re coming with me.” The agent motioned me over.

  “If we don’t find the keys, none of us are going anywhere.” I propped a hip on his running vehicle.

  His nostrils flared. “Get in the back of the car.”

  “With him? No way.” Through the front windshield, a warped vision of Lincoln was visible. He had that pissed off expression that seemed to be permanently on his face.

  Except when he’d laughed at Eric.

  Or Eric had made him laugh.

  I still hadn’t decided which was the case, but I knew one thing: I’d already been close to Lincoln Hollingsworth once today. I’d ride on the hood of this car before doing that again.

  “In.”

  “Wouldn’t it be better if more of us searched for the keys?” I asked oh so innocently. Provoking an officer of the law with a smart aleck attitude was just another thing on the list of stupid stuff I’d done today.

  “Every minute you don’t hand over those keys is another day you get behind bars.” He stomped back to the driver’s side and slammed the door once he was behind the wheel again.

  Could he do that?

  “Give them to me,” Beau pleaded.

  I put on a brave face and flipped my hair over my shoulder. “How much time do we need to buy, Teague?”

  “Half an hour,” he grunted.

  Thirty days in jail.

  If the jerk face made good on his threat of a day for every minute I stalled.

  We weren’t going to stop Lincoln from going to jail. We were just prolonging the inevitable and making the situation worse.

  “We’re going to save him,” Eric said as if reading my mind.

  No matter how many times we were kicked down, he remained optimistic. I wished I shared his attitude.

  Somehow, his positivity made me believe in miracles. Because of him, we had a business that was growing and thriving in a way I never dreamed.

  The word impossible wasn’t in his vocabulary.

  “Eric . . .” I didn’t want to get his hopes up.

  “Just believe me, sis.”

  How could I not?

  I won’t go to jail. I won’t go to jail.

  I’d stopped making promises to myself a long time ago that I knew I couldn’t keep. Jail was a hard limit for me, so this was one I’d make sure I followed through on.

  “Okay.” I stooped back down, undeterred by my dress touching the dirty sidewalk. The clothes were for show anyway. “They have to be somewhere around here,” I called loudly enough for the agent to hear.

  “Did you check by the van?” Beau asked, also using an extra loud voice for emphasis.

  “I’ll look.” Pepper jogged to the driver’s side.

  Honk. Honnnnnkkkk.

  Underneath the SUV, I made out the tires of another vehicle stuck behind me. Pepper waved them around. They blew the horn again as they passed.

  A small crowd began to gather on the sidewalk. Huh. I thought most people in the city just kept on going past trouble.

  Miss Adeline held on to the dogs. Muffy struggled against the leash, desperately yanking toward the SUV. Specifically the back of it.

  He was an excitable dog, especially when it came to food, but I’d never seen him like this.

  He didn’t belong to Lincoln. At least I didn’t think so, but Muffy had been possessive of Lincoln since we’d arrived.

  “What’s wrong with Muffy?” Eric followed my gaze from his position next to me.

  “I’m not sure.”

  Eric moved toward the dog and my nerves spiked. I trusted Pepper and Miss Adeline’s dogs, but ultimately they were unpredictable, particularly when they were upset.

  Muffy stamped his feet and tugged. Eric bravely touched his head, though the dog remained undeterred.

  “Eric, come sit by me,” Miss Adeline suggested gently.

  My brother pretended not to hear, something he was the world champion at, and spoke in a soothing way to Muffy. The dog still struggled toward the car, though his feet weren’t moving quite so emphatically.

  Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

  I was too young to have a heart attack, but at the rate I was going, I was on track to have one before I turned forty.

  At some point, I’d risen to a standing position again. Please don’t hurt Eric. I pleaded to the dog in my head, knowing that if something happened, it would completely be an accident. Even that knowledge didn’t deter the unhealthy spike of my nerves.

  The agent shoved out of the car once more and stomped around to the back door. He yanked it open, released the handcuffs, and Lincoln’s distinguished arm appeared. It was long, clad in a custom-made suit, with a tanned hand at the end.

  He snapped his fingers.

  Muffy immediately sat statue still.

  Lincoln withdrew his arm, and the agent fiddled in the back for a minute. I assumed he was securing Lincoln again. Then he returned to the driver’s seat, but not before giving me a threatening glare.

  Eric threw his arms around Muffy’s body. The dog leaned into him as if he needed my brother’s comfort.

  Through the tinted windshield, piercing eyes focused on me.

  I shivered.

  The man could command even the least obedient with only a look. Even when in the custody of a federal officer, Lincoln still ran the show.

  If a trained agent couldn’t resist, who could?

  Which was apparently why I was risking everything, including my good sense, pretending to look for car keys that were secured in my pocket.

  Maybe Eric and I had stretched ourselves too thin lately. Yeah, I could blame that on the lack of my using my brain. Or maybe my heart was too soft when it came to Beau. She had on a tough front, but inside, she was freaking out. Teague too.

  And I wanted to help them because they’d been there for us. Even if I didn’t like the jerk who would benefit most.

  Another car rolled to a stop behind my van.

  A dark, expensive model.

  This one didn’t honk.

  Chapter Three

  Lincoln

  What is he doing here?

  This was just what I needed. Another audience member. One from whom I’d never hear the end of this.

  He stepped out with the grace and agility of a man half his age. Never mind he’d recently suffered a massive heart attack. If he was in any pain, he masked it well.

  The back door of the SUV opened, and his looming figure appeared.

  I thought these vehicles were supposed to be secure to transport prisoners.

  Nothing could stop my father. Not a locked door. Or even near-death experiences.

  “Release him.”

  The laser gaze that was as familiar as my own was squarely on me. But the harsh words were for the agent in the fr
ont seat.

  The weasel squirmed, and as much as I wanted to look down on him for that, I couldn’t.

  Samuel Hollingsworth was intimidating.

  His presence commanded that what he wished be done . . . immediately.

  I’d worked with my father for more than twenty years. I’d lived in his shadow for forty. The only person who’d ever come close to resisting him was my brother, and even he’d failed for a time.

  “I-I can’t do that, sir.” The agent’s voice shook.

  I dropped my head back to lean against the headrest. If anything aggravated my father, it was fear.

  He let out an annoyed sigh. “It’s simple. Put the key in the lock of the cuffs and turn.”

  What is he doing here?

  Instead of gratitude, the question reared itself for a second time. If—no, when—my father got me out of this, there would be a price to pay. No deed was charity, not even for his own son.

  What will I owe him for this?

  Instead of dwelling on the unpleasant, my gaze drifted out the windshield. To the woman who might actually have a bigger bark than my father. Was her bite as vicious as that mouth?

  Everyone else was focused on the man whose blood ran through my veins. Except her.

  That green gaze pierced through the glass straight into me. A steel wall wouldn’t be thick enough to keep me from feeling it.

  She saw through me.

  She wasn’t intimidated.

  And she wasn’t afraid to be honest about the fact that she didn’t like what she saw.

  Most people clamored for my attention.

  Money and power had that effect.

  Even if behind my back they called me an asshole, they wouldn’t dare do it to my face.

  Lexie was the exception.

  Her bold dislike was . . . interesting.

  I hadn’t decided if I cared or not. Which was odd within itself. I wasn’t in the business of being concerned what others thought of me.

  Now most certainly wasn’t the time to consider it.

  I should be thinking about how to spend the least amount of time in custody. Or who I should retain as counsel. Or how long I’d been under investigation. Or the big one—why was I being arrested in the first place?

  How did she get into the dog food business? Is it a side gig or career?

  I balled my fist on my knee. Focus, Lincoln.

  The snarl on my father’s lips flattened as he studied me. Damn. I’d been caught doing whatever it was with Miss Feisty.

  “I’m not a patient man.”

  Again the words were spoken to the agent, yet this time they seemed to be a reminder directed at me. I didn’t need it.

  I was well aware of just how impatient he was.

  “Sir, I-I can’t—”

  “Do you like your job?” my father asked casually, as if he was genuinely curious.

  I looked away and resisted a snort. So predictable with the threats.

  Would he have every federal agent who attempted to arrest me fired until there were no more? Or would this cost him some of his precious money?

  “Yes, sir.” The agent straightened in the front seat, though he’d turned so his body was outward. Surely he was trained to see through this charade.

  “Might I then suggest you release my son.” Who knew menace and nonchalance at once was an art form?

  “I’ll be fire—”

  Father cocked his head before the agent could finish the sentence. Light bulbs seemed to flicker to life inside his agent brain as realization dawned on his face.

  His shoulders slumped. “You’ll have to speak to someone with more rank, sir. I do what I’m told.”

  My father remained impassive. “Very well.” His hard eyes zeroed in on me. “I’ll see to it this is rectified before it’s common knowledge.”

  He was letting this go? This easily? And of course he was concerned about this lovely scene hitting the papers, never mind my well-being.

  He turned on his heel but paused before he reached his car. Slowly, he spun. “Agent Walker, how many children do you have now? Three?”

  The agent swallowed hard. He hadn’t told him his name. Yet my father already knew it. “Four. One is on the way.”

  “Hmm.” He took two long steps to the back door of his Rolls Royce.

  “Are you threatening a federal agent?” Suddenly, this guy had a backbone. I wanted to take bets with Teague and Beau on how long they thought it would be before he crumbled.

  “Since when is making conversation a threat?” Father lifted a brow.

  A text alert sounded.

  The only one who looked at their phone was the agent.

  His eyes bulged. He gaped like a fish. “How?” He pointed to his phone, then looked back and forth between me and my father, who was already back in his car. His driver shut the door, and I was grateful for the dark glass so I didn’t have to see him.

  Agent Walker glared. “Get out.”

  I slid across the backseat, albeit awkwardly since my hands were still secured behind my back. He hadn’t had the decency to adjust my cuffs to the front to make me a little more comfortable.

  He yanked my arm more aggressively than necessary. In a way, I understood how he felt. It was like having a big deal just within my grasp only to have it slip away.

  “This isn’t over.” Maybe, maybe not. He unlocked the cuffs.

  Even though my arms fell back to their normal position at my sides, the bite of pain around my wrists was as if I were still bound. I resisted the urge to examine them, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d caused me discomfort.

  I stepped back.

  He slammed the car door. “Move that piece of junk.” He waved toward Lexie’s VW.

  I caught his door as he tried to close it. “That piece of junk is worth more than this one.”

  He tugged on the handle, but I didn’t immediately release the frame. We stared at one another. Why did I care if he’d insulted Lexie more than what he’d done to me?

  “You aren’t above the law.”

  He should know better than I did that there were most definitely people who didn’t have to conform to the rules.

  I shut the door in his face, though I was tempted to let him keep talking. Over the years, I’d found most people couldn’t keep their mouths shut, especially when I didn’t open mine.

  But I wanted to be rid of this jackass so my brother could have some semblance of celebration. I hated the special day had been tainted for him.

  Lexie patted the sides of her dress and flashed a saccharine smile. She pulled the keys from her pocket and dangled the large gold hoop from her fingers. “Found them.”

  I snorted. I couldn’t help it. The past thirty minutes had gone from ridiculous to more ridiculous. Miss Feisty indeed.

  Chapter Four

  Lexie

  Are you crazy?

  Are. You. Crazy?

  I’d not only taunted an officer of the law—but a federal one. I’d pulled the van into an empty spot by the curb just down the street from the old Grey Paws building. What I should have done was tell Eric we had to go and hightailed it out of there.

  But he was happy with the dogs. I didn’t want to take that away from him.

  And . . . I wasn’t ready to leave either.

  That had nothing to do with the surly almost-jailbird. Definitely not.

  I should leave.

  We had dog food to make, and I’d promised Eric we could watch his pick of a movie tonight. Which would be Superman. Because it was always Superman.

  I turned off the van and locked it after I slid out.

  “Thank you.”

  I yelped at the deep voice just behind me and spun. “Couldn’t you have cleared your throat? Or banged on the car? Or made any kind of noise?” I put my hand on my chest.

  He was so close I got a whiff of his body wash or cologne or whatever it was. Why do you have to smell so good?

  “Couldn’t you just say ‘you
’re welcome’?”

  Instead of backing away, he put his hand on the van above my head. Trapped.

  I inhaled deeply, but the air tainted with his scent wasn’t enough to settle the ever-increasing speed of my heartbeats.

  I am not in a closet. I am not in a closet.

  My breaths came in jagged pants. Not now. Not in front of him.

  I closed my eyes. Breathe, Lexie. You are safe. Breathe.

  “Lexie?” Not seeing him was worse because it heightened my other senses. I didn’t just hear the concern in his voice, I felt it.

  “Need . . . a . . . sec.” I held up my finger, but it brushed solid chest.

  I tried to conjure up my happy place. The kitchen of our modest apartment with the tunes up loud, laughing with Eric as we experimented. The fingers of darkness threatened to snatch it away, but I concentrated hard.

  A warm hand touched my cheek. My kitchen became clearer in my mind as I battled to beat the darkness back.

  Hugs from my brother were the ultimate comfort, but something about the thumb that swiped over my tender skin soothed my racing heart. The hand was gentle yet sure. Strong and supportive.

  I took in a couple of deep breaths as embarrassment washed over me. Lately, these episodes were few and far between and mostly attacked within the privacy of my own home.

  My outer shell was all about the appearance of strength and confidence when most of the time I was anything but. Exposing my weakness, especially in front of him . . .

  Why didn’t you leave earlier?

  “Better?” That voice shook me from my inner thoughts. The thumb that had caressed my cheek now brushed over the pulse point in my neck.

  I was better.

  And worse.

  But I’d be damned if I let him know that.

  “Fine.” I popped my eyes open. He was too close. Too masculine. Too much of all the confidence I wished I could exude. His wasn’t manufactured. It was real. Like an anchor.

  The way he scrutinized me was unnerving. If I only had his face to go by, I’d never be able to read what was going on in his head. His touch was the only indication.

  He gave me a moment to compose myself without words. I appreciated that on some level he knew I didn’t want to talk.